


a sentimental feeling

by thecoquimonster



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 09:25:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12884910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecoquimonster/pseuds/thecoquimonster
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley decorating their Christmas tree.





	a sentimental feeling

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help writing some Christmas fluff.

To any passersby, the bookshop during the Christmas season was normally unchanged. The books were just as disorganized as ever. So much dust settled on the bookshelves that it could make anyone, human or occult or ethereal, have an allergy attack. There were water stains on the ceiling. Aziraphale had made sure that there was no mold, the very least.

This year, Aziraphale had brought out a dusty Christmas wreath and hung it on the wall. And that was quite enough for the front room.

If it were possible, the back room could be considered more of a mess. The disorder of books seemed to be Aziraphale’s natural state. It spilled out from the front room to his private back room and even to his flat upstairs.

It was made worse by the boxes of Christmas decorations strewn about the floor; the lights and garlands Aziraphale was currently untangling. He frowned down at his work. He tugged at the lights. Still entwined. They would not budge. Aziraphale let out a grunt of frustration.

“I don’t see why you don’t just miracle them untangled,” Crowley said from his place on the couch. “It would save a lot of time.”

Aziraphale glanced back at him. Crowley downed his glass of wine and raised his eyebrows.

“Helping me decorate instead of lounging about on the couch would also save a lot of time,” said Aziraphale pointedly. He turned back to the tangled lights and miracled the largest knot away, allowing him to unravel the rest by hand more easily. He rather hoped Crowley hadn’t noticed. “Come now, my dear. I’ll make some hot cocoa later if you help me.”

He heard Crowley get up from the couch and come to survey the several boxes filled with decorations.

“You don’t want to buy new ones?” he asked.

“You would push the rabid consumerism of this season onto me,” Aziraphale noted.

“Tis the season to run each other over in attempts of getting the best deals on material possessions!” said Crowley. He bumped his shoulder against Aziraphale’s, grinning. “Come on, angel.”

Aziraphale shook his head and sighed. He pushed the lights into Crowley’s hands. “Go wrap these around the tree, would you?”

The Christmas tree was fairly sure that it had not been in the corner of the room at the beginning of this conversation. It politely said nothing. Crowley seemed like the type of person that a plant should behave around. And the tree did not want to go through a wood chipper just yet. It would like to enjoy a few more weeks of life, thank you.

“Now Crowley,” said Aziraphale, “don’t intimidate the poor thing. It’s Christmas.”

“It’s my job to undermine—” Crowley began to tease.

Aziraphale crossed his arms and tilted his head. Crowley shut up.

As Crowley struggled to space out the lights evenly, Aziraphale took out his tree ornaments. Many of these were decades old and incredibly fragile. Some were the only survivors in a set. His tree would be lovingly mismatched in the same way all the books were. In the same way that the bookshop itself felt out of place in Soho.  

Crowley muttered something under his breath and plugged in the lights. Nothing happened. “Ah, come on!”

The lights started on, casting a warm golden glow in the room.

“Perfect,” Crowley said. “You’d better stay like that if you know what’s good for you.”

The lights began to blink on and off. Aziraphale allowed himself to smirk. Even the tree seemed to be restraining its amusement.

“Well!” said Crowley, making as if to unplug the lights and follow through on his threat.

“Oh, leave them alone, my dear,” Aziraphale told him with an unconcerned wave of his hand. “Should we put the star or the angel on top?”

Crowley turned around, his eyes glittering. He stepped forward, his mouth curling up slowly, and traced Aziraphale’s jaw.

“I think,” he just about purred, making Aziraphale’s breathing stutter, “that I’d prefer the angel on top this year. What do you say, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale’s cheeks burned. He leaned in for the kiss, making sure it was as soft as the first flakes of snow touching the ground. He felt Crowley’s other hand pressing against his lower back. Aziraphale gasped and deepened the kiss for a moment. He pulled away. If anything, the kiss had made his face flush more. But he cleared his throat and fixed Crowley’s collar.

“Perhaps,” Aziraphale said, bending down to take the little angel, “after we’ve finished decorating.”

It was Crowley’s turn to blush. “Right.”

He followed Aziraphale to the tree without a word. Aziraphale stepped on the footstool that also had not been there before. He placed the angel at the top and fought to keep it upright.

“That’s it,” said Crowley, peering up at him. “Keep it like that.”

“I’m trying,” Aziraphale said, frowning at the angel. He let go of it. It tilted backwards. Aziraphale took a breath and tried again. This time, it stayed. Aziraphale slowly stepped down and took a few careful steps back.

“It looks lovely so far,” said Crowley, ignoring the garlands scattered around the floor.

The angel leaned sideways. Aziraphale slouched in defeat. The lights began to wink on and off faster.

“Can’t seem to keep straight, can it?” Crowley said. He put his hands in his pockets.

“The both of you are teasing me,” said Aziraphale, crossing his arms again. It was very difficult not to pout. Crowley might have said he was pouting regardless of his attempts. “I don’t appreciate it.”

Crowley burst out with a laugh. “Do you want to try the star, then?”

“No.”

He turned away. Crowley chased him and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s waist. He buried his face into Aziraphale’s neck and started murmuring to him. And well—Aziraphale could never stay upset with Crowley for long.

Crowley flicked his wrist, and the ornaments had arranged themselves on the tree. The garlands had curled themselves around the tree and around the bookshelves. Even the angel on top had righted itself. Aziraphale shook his head. “My dear, you know that’s cheating.”

“What’s cheating is not using our abilities,” said Crowley. “And now I believe that you promised some hot cocoa and… perhaps something else?”

Aziraphale twisted around and gave Crowley another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Was this entire fic built around those two angel jokes? Yes, yes it was. Happy holidays.


End file.
